


Soon

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: 25 years of love and devotion, Angst and Feels, F/M, Season 11, mulder and scully are trying to get back together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 06:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19739764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: She said this time it'd be different but is it?





	Soon

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt(s): “You said this time it’d be different.” & Me and you, nothing else matters.

It’s still dark when he hears the familiar rustle of Scully putting on her clothes. For a second, he smiles. He’s barely awake, his eyes still closed, and he’s half locked in a dream of the past. Back then, Scully did this too; get dressed in the dark to let him sleep an hour longer. Then, later, she stopped bothering. No matter what she did, light or dark, there were days when Mulder didn’t leave the bed - or his couch - at all.

All that’s in the past. With waking, no matter how slowly, come the memories of last night. Another off night, as Scully calls them. They fuck (her words), she sleeps over and then, in the early, stealthy hours of the morning, she sneaks out (his words).

There’s something at the back of his mind, like an itch. Something she said while she kissed him with her wine-stained lips, tasting like berries. Hmmm. If only he could…

“You said this time it’d be different.” His voice fills the room and he’s surprised how much he sounds like a petulant child. The rustling stops and he can’t see her but he thinks Scully is staring at him.

“I need to go home, Mulder.”

“Why?” He searches for the bedside lamp and almost falls out of the bed as he turns it on. The room is bathed in a soft, barely there orange hue. Scully bought these light bulbs ages ago. He never thought of changing them.

“It’s Friday,” she says matter-of-factly.

“And?”

“And we have to go to work. I need to go home.”

“You are home.”

“Mulder,” she sighs, turning away from him and looking for her shoes. He should have hidden them after she fell asleep. But she was warm against him, soft and felt so good that he couldn’t get up. He was afraid to move, afraid to let go for a second and lose her all over again.

“You can shower here,” he explains and sits up. “You have a toothbrush and more than a few clean clothes. So what do you have at your home,” he almost spits the word, “that you don’t have here?”

“I need to go home, Mulder.” I need you in me, Mulder, she said last night, with the same desperation, biting his earlobe. He shivers. “Please.”

“So it was… a lie? You telling me it was different this time. It was a lie.”

“No,” she says. “No,” she repeats with emphasis. “Not a lie.” She walks over to him and touches his cheek. “I’m just not…”

“Ready,” he finishes for her. “You’re not ready.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, stroking his cheek with her thumb, wiping at invisible tears. It’s her that’s crying. As he reaches out to touch her, she shies away. It’s like a slap. “I’m sorry, Mulder.”

“Don’t be,” he says as he swallows his own pain. The touch of her skin is tattooed onto him; it stings, hasn’t had time to heal. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. Whenever that is.”

He smiles at her and now, he’s crying, too. She leans down, kisses his cheek and the corner of his mouth. Their tears mingle. He wants to kiss her, longs for her lips, but doesn’t dare. His arms are limp against his side. If he touches her, he won’t be able to let her go.

“Me and you,” she mumbles against his skin, “nothing else matters.” Scully is gone before his brain catches up. Downstairs, the door closes with a soft click. These words. He said them to her last night.

Their naked skin pressed against each other, hot and familiar, their need for each other strong, he whispered these words to her. “Nothing else matters,” he said as he thrust inside her, his eyes never leaving hers, not once.

He didn’t then, but he remembers now; this is not the first time he’s uttered these words. Back then, in a motel room, their faces younger, their trust still frail, he was talking about Samantha. Now it’s only Scully. Has only been her for longer than he can remember.

Scully.

A few hours later, at work, Scully doesn’t mention the morning, or their night, and neither does he. Just like in old times. Then, at the end of the day, Scully lingers and waits for him to look at her.

“Soon,” she says with a smile before she leaves. Again.

“Soon,” he repeats to the silence of the office and smiles too. Nothing else matters, only them.


End file.
